


Mincing Words

by Dracorum



Category: Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracorum/pseuds/Dracorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little musical-block of our bard king gets the sweet treatment it deserves. Small oneshot for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mincing Words

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Fanfiction.net. I do not own FFIV:After Years.

 

King Edward Chris von Muir of Damcyan is unanimously praised and lauded as the best bard of his time. His many songs and tunes are copied diligently and reproduced in important events and gatherings. Would be lovers sing them to each other in the night, mothers lull their little ones to sleep with hums, and roaring crowds applaud as musicians replay his battle epics.

Little do they know of his struggles with rhymes.

"The cry of the Dragon/ echoes forever in the- No, no,  _no!_ "

The blond king violently pulls his luxurious locks in frustration as he crosses out yet another line of his latest obsession, a present for Rydia's upcoming wedding with his counterpart in name.

The tune had come to him easily the week before last. A haunting motif evoking Mist gave way to a rising, joyous ode of the summoner, followed subtly by the strong rhythmic beat of Eblan, a marching of strength against unknown adversity, and closing with a series of triumphant notes, joy in the union...

It had been so easy. Now he wishes he had never written such a complex thing in the first place.

"HOW do you write words to happiness like theirs?" Edwards mourns as he stares at the scattered pages of notes in front of him.

"My lord?" Harley steps noiselessly into his favorite study, her arms filled with folders. The door had been opened to catch the morning air coming from the direction of the courtyard. Perhaps he should rethink that habit when in the middle of writing lyrics.

Edward quickly shuffle some papers around on the table to hide the music sheets from the strict secretary, "Yes, Harley, did you need something? I'm still reviewing that request from the quartermaster-"

"There's no need to anymore, my lord, I've just come to tell you. He found the misplaced stock from last month and sent his apologies." She moves into the room as she explains her errand. Upon reaching his location, Harley coolly stacks the chaotic documents together, completely disregarding his flailing hands, and lifts out the one he had supposedly been in the process of 'reviewing'.

"So, you may continue to compose their nuptial blessing as you were."

Edward grimaces, "Did you hear the part about the dragon?"

A small, upturn corner of her mouth, "No, my lord. It sounds a most interesting subject to be included in a wedding song."

"Thank you very much for your approval." he replies dryly, inside a little happy at her reaction. She is still so hard to read after all these years of their partnership, but he can at least see whether she is joking or not now. Most of the time. Probably.

'If only I have an idea of where to begin!' Edward thought as he gloomily takes up the quill again, 'Should I ask for some pointers? No, first I need to rethink the whole verse format-'

Harley, the ever cognizant assistant, seems to be reading his thoughts as it happens, "My lord, may I be presumptuous to assume you are making little progress with the lyrics?"

"You may with certainty, dear Harley." he sighs, "I am sure I will not be able to finish this monstrosity in time for the event in two months."

Harley actively ignores his whine and replies, "Then, may I be allowed to suggest a change of pace and a reprieve, my lord? You have been missed at breakfast and it is already nearing noon. Perhaps Cook can be persuaded to offer a special treat-"

Edwards looks up quickly, "Do you mean-" he dare not hope, "-shaved ice?"

Harley gives him a full smile this time, "Yes."

The age of almost forty years mean little at this point in time as Edward leaps up immediately and tows Harley out of the study with him, "What are we dawdling for then!"

"My lord, I only meant to-!"

"Give me a chance to catch some much needed inspiration? I can not see why I have to do so alone, however." Edward smiles back at her as he continues to lead her along by the arm.

Harley blinks and almost blush like a young girl. She always thought he indiscriminately charms everyone unintentionally, now she is certain he does it on purpose.

* * *

The kitchen of Damcyan Castle is not a place to be entered into lightly without purpose. The airy hall running parallel to the great banquet chamber clamor and clang all day long with the song of pots and pans and good things being turned into even tastier things.

It was almost Edward's favorite place in the world, second to a certain oasis.

He likes to watch his Head Cook, an enormous man of more than fifty years, sits on his stool and yell out intructions like a field commander, all the while chopping cabbage to a beat. It's actually like going to a concert, except you can eat the results.

"Selas!"

The man turns and nods to his liege, "My lord, I had hoped you would be coming soon. Try not to miss any more meals than you already have, will you? I am trying to run a timely kitchen here."

Edward changes his eager face into an apologetic one, "Oh, well, if only I had known there was some ice left-"

"Hah! Is that all it takes to distract you from your mumblings! Go and take a seat in the corner. I'll do you up a big bowl of soup,  _then_  you can have some shaved ice." Selas gets up from his permanent observatory after the mock-tirade and sallies off toward the end with the big pots, his helpers scattering in every direction.

Harley looks on wonderingly, "My lord, is Selas someone you know...personally?"

Edwards settles onto a small stool, tucking his legs away from rushing scullery maids, "Selas was my big brother figure as I was growing up. I found having a contact in the kitchen is always a good thing, especially if you are fond of running away."

"You-" she looks at him uncertainly, unable to read his expressions, "Run away, my lord?"

He smiles at her softly, "The reasons changed over the years. I ran away from tutors, fencing practices, matchmaking sessions, dull conversations-" Edward stops abruptly, eyes far away.

Harley learned earlier on in her employment through gossips in the halls that this is his 'Anna' face. She waits, patiently standing as close to the wall as possible to avoid being stab unintentionally with meat cleavers and fruit knives.

"-I met Cecil and the others during one of those ran-away episode. Little did I know it would turn out to be such a journey." Edward continues as if he had never stopped for five seconds.

She still doesn't know what to say to him, to try to make things...easier? Better? All she can do is aid him in his daily work, and hope it is enough. "I am sure everyone is glad you had your 'ran-away episode' that day, my lord."

Edward shakes his head, "No, I am the one who is glad. I am glad Rydia and Edge will be happy together from now till forever... _wait!_ "

Harley also learned much, much earlier on that this is his 'inspired' face, "I will inform Head Cook Selas of your whereabouts, my lord."

"Thank you Harley," he is already halfway to the door, gracefully dodging around swinging ladles, "tell him to bring two portions and come along as soon as you can-"

The king's voice echoes around the closing door. Selas comes up to her almost immediately after and hands her a small tray arranged neatly with cups of iced drinks, "Here, he'll be parched when that bout of inspiration dries. Go on, the maids will find you."

Recovering quickly from the surprisingly quiet approach, Harley replies, "Thank you, Selas." But she still hesitates to follow her liege.

Selas looks down at her from his mountainous height, "You are already doing your best by him. More progress during these last few years than we've had during all that time before. We're all thankful."

Harley looks over her shoulders and sees the staff all giving her signs of encouragement. She nods solemnly at them, thank Selas again, before walking out with the tray carefully balanced on her arm.

Across a small corridor, up a staircase, pass a balcony over looking a small desert garden with a lively fountain, into a part of the castle flooding with afternoon sunshine, and faint showers of music.

Damcyan always resounds with strains of unvoiced songs, sharp and soft, sad and swift. Notes bounce off the water and the birds somehow sing in harmony. All of the residents of the Castle go through their days with hums and dancing steps.

Edward Chris von Muir, bard and king, continues to write his love song as his secretary works beside him. Both still unaware of the changes within their hearts.


End file.
